


Sweet Leaf

by AlleiraDayne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angel Orgasms (Supernatural), Come Shot, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Drugs, Ejaculate, Hate Sex, M/M, Marijuana, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Simultaneous Orgasm, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 02:35:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17593004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: Inside Dean's head, Michael taunt's Dean's subconscious as Michael watches corporeal Dean jerk off in a mirror. Dean's subconscious is not okay with this.





	Sweet Leaf

**Author's Note:**

> Today I Learned: Angel Orgasms have their own tag.
> 
> For SPN King Bingo 2019, this fills the square Michael/Dean.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/138010791@N02/31980711597/in/dateposted-public/)

“That’s private!” Dean growled.

Michael laughed through the door of the freezer as he stared at Dean in the mirror. “Are you quite serious?” he asked. “Nothing about you is private, Dean. I own you, remember?"

Dean dug his fingers into the bar as Michael continued to stare at the sight of Dean, completely naked on a tall stool before his full-length mirror in his room of the Bunker.

Wait.

What the fuck?

“How are you doing that?” Dean barked at the freezer door.

“Doing what? Watching you?” Michael asked. “I see everything you see. Just because you locked me in here does not mean I am no longer privy to your thoughts. I see and know and hear and _feel_ everything you do.”

“Then…” Dean asked as he looked at himself through his eyes once more. “How am I here, in my head, and… out there at the same time?”

“It’s… simple,” Michael drawled with an amused sigh. Dean watched himself stroke the length of his cock, gaining speed, and Michael sighed. “You are your subconscious. That is your consciousness. And your…” he paused as he cleared his throat, “your body. Your very taut, hard, flexing body.”

Dean growled to himself as he paced behind the bar. “Did I take drugs? I feel like I’m hallucinating.”

“No,” Michael stated. “I do not sense any mind-altering chemicals in your system.”

Dean said nothing, preoccupying himself by cleaning a glass.

“Oh wait,” Michael interrupted. “There are trace amounts of the chemical THC in your system. Sorry. I missed it the first time around.”

“THC… _I_ _smoked a bowl?!_ ” he gasped as he dropped the glass. “DEAN. DUDE. HEY, ME. STOP. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Michael laughed over his shouts. “It seems as though you cannot hear yourself. Good thing, too, I am beginning to enjoy this.”

Son of a bitch. He had to get a grip on that damn archangel. But how? He could hardly control his conscious self, stroking his cock and grasping his balls as he stared at himself in the mirror. Was he really that vain?

“I had the same question,” Michael chimed from the freezer. “I should have figured, though. You are so very full of yourself.”

“Shut up,” Dean grunted. “Can you just… ignore me for a few minutes? Give me—him—some privacy?”

Michael cackled with laughter, a sound that rankled Dean’s nerves. “Dean, I ignore you all the time. But your body? I cannot ignore that. Especially when you’re thinking about the waitress from earlier tonight. You might be a polite lover, but you sure enjoy yourself a kinky fantasy every now and then.”

Dean thought he might puke. “Christ, dude, leave me alone,” he groaned as he slumped on a barstool, head collapsed to his arms.

“I am,” Michael said, “But again, I cannot help what your conscious self decides to do while I’m still in here.”

Dean chanced another look to find himself wearing an embarrassing face, eyes squeezed shut and mouth gaping as he moaned the waitress’s name repeatedly. Did he really look that ridiculous when he jerked off?

“It’s not so bad, Dean,” Michael mused. “I find it quite… attractive.”

“You would,” Dean spat. “Sadistic son of a bitch.”

“Ouch,” Michael mocked. “That hurts. And here I was trying to give you a compliment.”

“Too bad I don’t take compliments from assholes,” Dean shouted at the freezer door.

Nothing, no witty retort or smarm responded to that. A rare quiet settled over the bar. Uneasy, Dean did his best to ignore himself, but he was stuck there in his own head as lascivious thoughts of fucking the waitress’s mouth raced through it. From one fantasy to the next, Dean’s mind leaped, breasts and wet pussy and cum shots and facials—

A long low groan sounded from the freezer, loud enough that his corporeal body stuttered for a stroke. In his head, Dean glared at the freezer door, hoping he had not heard what he thought he had. “Michael? I swear to God…”

“God,” Michael groaned, “Isn’t here anymore.”

“If you are… if you’re doing what I think you are,” Dean bellowed, “Stop! I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking kill you, I mean it, stop, right now!”

“Really, Dean?” Michael moaned, “You’ll open the door and come in here and do what?”

No. He was baiting him. That was exactly what Michael wanted, to be let out, to take control again. Maybe he just had to ride it out, let them both get it over with, and then he’d forget it. Yeah. That was it. After all, it was his head. He could make himself forget it ever happened. In a few minutes he’d—

Another moan rent the air. “Fuck me, Dean, but you are so pretty when you’re about to come.”

He reacted without thinking, immediately looking at himself to find his hips thrusting his cock into his tight fist, his other hand stroking his asshole with two fingers all the way up to his palm.

And then his cock twitched in his pants.

“Uh oh,” Michael sang, “are you turned on watching yourself? You must admit, it’s almost like watching porn. Surprisingly good amateur porn…”

Dean tore his eyes away from himself as he shook his head. No. There was no way. He’d never watch himself do that.

“That’s not true,” Michael growled, the distinct slaps of his masturbation audible through the door. “Do you know how many people have watched that video?”

“Fuck you.”

“Come in here and do it yourself,” Michael demanded, “Although it looks like you might enjoy it if I fucked you…”

Dean chanced another look at himself and immediately regretted it. Vigorous strokes, thrusting hips, and pumping fingers extracted an orgasm that Dean felt in his subconscious. A long stream of cum landed along his chest, and in his head, Dean sighed.

“I take that back,” Michael whimpered, “I would like to feel that inside me.”

The angel binding handcuffs were in his hands before Dean understood what was happening. “No. No fucking way.”

“What’s stopping you? Obviously the conscious you had no qualms with my being here.”

“That’s because conscious you—er, me—doesn’t know you can see everything!” Dean bellowed as he punched the door.

“And feel everything,” Michael added with a moan. “It was quite the—”

“I know it was! SHUT. UP.”

“Make me.”

Dean paused at that, a thought occurring to him. “You are a giant slut for me, aren’t you?”

The sound of slapping skin stopped like a record scratch. “No.”

Dean eyed the handcuffs, then picked them up. “That’s a lie,” he said as he stopped in front of the door. “See, it’s my head you’re in. And that means I can feel everything you feel, too. You want me for more than just tearing this world apart.”

A long silent minute passed before Michael responded. “Alright, Dean. What did you have in mind?”

Dean closed his eyes, his thoughts racing. When he opened them, a small access door, barely wide enough for a serving tray to fit through, had appeared on the freezer door. “You want me to come in there?”

“After witnessing that lovely display,” Michael breathed, “I do.”

“Get away from the door,” Dean ordered. Shuffled footsteps echoed in the freezer as Michael moved. Satisfied, Dean opened the access, shoved the handcuffs through, then slammed the door shut. He immediately imagined away the little door, the surface returned to normal. “Put those on.”

He heard the teeth of the cuffs click into place, then grasped the handle of the freezer door. “I’m going to open this, Michael, and I swear to—”

“God?”

“I swear on Sam’s head, if you go apeshit, he’ll kill us both,” Dean spat.

“I’ve got the cuffs on, Dean,” Michael sang. “I’m all yours.”

With a deep breath, he ripped the screwdriver from the lock, pulled open the door, and rushed inside. In the far corner, Michael stood with his hands held out, the cuffs secure around his wrists. His pants hung from his hips, undone, the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband. When he met his eyes, Dean froze, unable to move further.

“Okay, I forgot you looked exactly like me even in my head,” he muttered. “This is really fucking weird.”

Michael crossed the space between them with slow steps. “It doesn’t have to be,” he mused. “I can look like whoever you want. It is, after all, your head.” He paused, waiting, as if he expected something to happen. “You _are_ kinky. You’d fuck yourself?”

“I…” Dean hesitated, but then his brow knotted as he grabbed the chain of the cuffs and wrenched Michael to his knees. “I have had enough,” he started as he unzipped his pants and shoved them to his knees, “of your bullshit,” he tore down his underwear, the hard length of his cock falling free, “now, shut up and suck my dick.”

Michael opened his mouth without question. Dean angled the tip of his cock to Michael’s lips—God dammit, _his_ lips—and rolled his hips. The tip disappeared as Michael sealed his mouth around his cock, and Dean thrust, shoving himself down his throat. Without any reflex, Michael remained still but for the swirling of his tongue around his thick shaft, then bobbed his head.

Fuck. Dean moaned a long, low groan as he thrust, and Michael sucked. The rattle of the cuffs grasped Dean’s attention as Michael reached for his own cock, both hands wrapped around the shaft and stroking. Damn, but it felt amazing, despite how strange it was to look down at his cock pumping into his own mouth.

No. Michael’s mouth. Just because he looked like him did not mean he _was_ him. He couldn’t conflate himself with the archangel. He fucked Michael’s mouth, and he had to admit, Michael was damn good at sucking cock.

“You angels are pretty damn kinky,” Dean grunted as he gripped Michael by the hair. “Jerk off to your vessel jerking off, let their subconscious fuck your mouth. High and mighty hypocrites.”

Michael reared back, withdrawing him from his mouth. “So? Pleasure is not the sole domain of humans,” he started as he stood, pressing his cock to Dean’s. Both hands grasped their lengths and stroked as Michael rolled his hips.

Dean’s hips stuttered as he thrust into Michael’s hands. “I suppose that works for us both since we’re stuck in here together,” he said. “What was it you said you wanted to feel me do to you?”

Michael’s eyes lit up as he moved to a keg. “I did. When I saw you come, I wondered what that would feel like inside me,” he said as he turned his back to him. “Show me how it feels, Dean.”

In the blink of an eye, Dean had Michael bent over the stack of kegs, then ripped his pants to his ankles with his underwear. “You want me to fuck you?”

“I do,” Michael moaned as he rolled his ass against Dean’s cock. “I want you to come in my ass.”

Dean angled the tip of his cock to his hole and pressed. “Beg for it,” Dean ordered. “I want to hear you beg.”

Michael’s breathless pleas swelled an ache in Dean’s balls he would never forget. Over his shoulder, Michael looked him in the eye and said, “Oh, please, Dean. Fuck me. Pound my ass with your big, fat cock.”

When he pushed, the tight hole eased, then relaxed as the head slipped in. “Oh fuck, that feels good,” Dean moaned.

“Just wait until you’re—” Michael’s thought cut off as Dean slammed his hips into him and he screamed. “Oh, _fuck_ , Dean, you’re huge.”

“You say that like you know,” Dean growled as he began to thrust, “you like getting fucked?”

“Dean, I’m millions of years old,” Michael said, his words marked by Dean’s thrusting hips. “I’ve known many partners.”

“Whore.”

“So? You like it.”

Dean grunted as he thrust harder. “Oh, I do. Fuck, your ass is amazing,” he sighed. “I’m… shit I’m gonna come.”

“Do it, Dean,” Michael begged as he stroked his own cock, “please, I need it, I need to feel you come inside me.”

The warm ache of his climax burst at the seams, Dean’s hard and fast thrusts, coupled with Michael’s desperate voice, shoving him over the edge. Hard throbs emptied his balls, his cum coating his length and running down Michael’s thighs. And Michael’s ass flexed, the muscles of his hole tight around Dean’s cock, and he cried out a moan the likes of which Dean had never heard, a song so lascivious, he thought he might come all over again.

Dean withdrew from him with a snap of his hips, hauled up his pants, and rushed from the freezer. He jammed the screwdriver back into the lock, then grabbed a bottle of Jack from behind the bar and drank straight from the bottle.

“Oh, come now, Dean,” Michael sang through the door. “It wasn’t _that_ bad. I found it quite enjoyable.”

“Seriously, dude. Shut. Up.”

“You should smoke more often if that means I get—”

The front door of the bar slammed shut as Dean stomped outside. He waited there, worried for a moment that Michael’s disembodied voice might follow him regardless of where he went. When Dean was met with nothing but silence, he sighed in relief, then drank another long pull from the bottle, emptying it.

“We have gotta get rid of that fucking guy.”


End file.
